Beastie Boys and Beanie Hats
by FishFingeresAndCustard11
Summary: When a car breaks down outside Haley's flat in Leicester, she goes out to help the poor guy. But what Haley doesn't realise is that he's sort of famous. And she sort of knows who he is. After all, what sort of Whovian doesn't know Matt Smith when they see him? Matt Smith/OC Haley Scott. T - contains swearing and maybe make-out scenes later.
1. Preface

Beastie Boys and Beanie Hats.

Preface

How do you find the implacable moment when your life changes? Lives are fluid, and in a permanent state of constance; the moment you live in, in every single detail, seems from your perspective to have always been how things are, even if you know this is definitely not the case. There are, however, two things that show it when reminiscing: one is events, like changing a school year, starting or graduating university, a break up, moving out or moving out, and the other is the people.

People will move in and out of your life, growing closer or apart, tied together by circumstance or emotion and then severed when the bonds break. They change nearly everything about you - they mark your physique, your personality, your mentality and leave things behind in a way nothing else can.

Going, then, by the rules that people and events change your life and show them to you with clarity, I can tell you exactly when my life was thrown around, turned inside-out, upside-down and super glued that way for good measure.

And all if this has to do with a certain car with a certain man inside choosing to break down in front of a certain block of flats in Leicester...


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

As I dozed on my bed, playing my Sleeping with Sirens CD, I enjoyed the breeze that danced upon my face from the open window. I let the voices and noises swim around me, from both my flat and the outside world - the symphony of daily life. I could hear cars cruising by, marked by the soft purr of engines; shouts from the market not far away; tapping footsteps against the pavement, rustles of shopping bags and pushchairs; squeals of children from their prams escalating to full-blown tantrums;  
the preacher on the corner shouting and screeching inane phrases like "GET YOUR CURE FOR DEATH!"; and above all, the chatter - parent to child,sibling to sibling, friend to friend, all generations and accents twirling in an ineloquent and unharmonious ballet that was soothing all the same.  
Although softened by the distance, the noises that came from inside were softer still than those from outside- the slow, rhythmic _s__hh_ of the water swirling around in the dishwasher and washing machine,

the fluttering curatins brushing against each other, the fizzing of the glass of coke in my bedside table.  
Everysingle sound painted a picture of the world for me behind my closed eyelids.

Being twenty, and it being a Saturday, I should have been doing something - shopping, going to the cinema,studying or at least drinking our remaining alcohol. But I had no money, having gone food shopping yesterday, I had no inclination to study and I had drunk the last of the wine last night - which was why this morning I had to untangle myself from DVD cases, corks, bottles and my two flat mates, Sophie and Cam. After that I had NO energy.

I lay there for God knows how long, curled up in my hangover blue hoodie and denim shorts, sometimes conscious and sometimes not. I could hear a car clattering from miles off, clearly on its last legs, when an almighty BANG made me jump. I crawled to the window and hoisted myself up to lean out of it.

A small blue car had broken down, bonnet steaming, directly beneath my window on the first floor. I could taste it the unpleasant smoke. The driver, whose silhouette I could just about make out through the massive cloud pouring from their car, was standing at the hood and trying to pop it open.

"OI!" I shouted, my voice croaky. Yep, definitely been asleep. "You want some help with that, mate?"

"Er, yes please!" replied a guy's voice.

"Two seconds and I'll be down!"

"Alright, love!"

I rolled my eyes and pulled my rat's nest/hair into a ponytail. I slipped on my shoes and ran down the stairs and out the building. I caught the door as my neighbour came through, with a quick "Hi, Bob!". I swung through the entrance to see the smoke had cleared a bit (probably as whatever had caught fire had gone out). I skipped down the steps. All the running was waking me up a bit.

"What's up with it?" I asked the driver.

"I have no clue," he admitted as he turned to face me, and I saw his face properly for the first time.

The first thing I noticed was his eyes - the warmth that came from them was incredible, and they were a beautiful pale green. His floppy hair, though partially obscured by a dark green beanie hat,  
was a dark brown. He had unusual facial proportions - his nose and chin were rather large, but he was somehow still (rather unconventionally) attractive. His eyes had dark circles under them, and his jeans and T-shirt were a little rumpled. I smiled.

"Driving all night?"

"Yeah, something like that," he smiled back and sighed. "And I'm a whole hour late to catch my train because there was a bloody traffic jam all up Henly Road."

"Aw, poor you," I sympathised. "Tell you what, I'll help you push your car to the side of the road and we'll have a cuppa tea, and by then my flat mate should have brought my car back. Then we can sort you out another train?"

His face lit up at the mention of tea. "Good plan. Excellent in fact. You go steer and I'll push at the back?" he said, slamming the bonnet on the still-hissing engine.

I nodded and took my place. "Alright!" he bellowed. "ONE, TWO - THREE!"

Shuffling and grunting, we rolled the car from the middle of the road to the side. I beckoned him forward with a breathless "c'mon,". As I walked up the steps, he slightly surprised me.

He took my hand.

* * *

A/N: Massive thank yous to the people who are following and reading this. It's my first story, so to have anyone read it is massive for me :). And to the two people who are following, ChoirCat16 and notwritten, cyber hugs coming your way! Extra love for notwritten too coz you were my first reviewer as well 3

Love you guys,

FishFingeresAndCustard11 :)


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I pushed my front door open and guided him in.

"Sorry about the mess," I apologised quickly. I was still short of breath after pushing his car and climbing the stairs. "Sit anywhere you like." I hurried to the kitchen, grabbing mugs and flicking switches brusquely. My eyes flitted to the door, and I was startled to see him leaning casually against the door frame. He smirked a little when he saw me jump. I rolled my eyes.

As I waited for the kettle to boil I could hear him shifting around. The switch clicked and I poured the water into the cups. The steam was soothing on my faintly groggy eyelids.

"How do you take yours?" I asked, briefly turning to meet his eyes. He's sat on the work surface behind me.

"White, two sugars."

I make it to his taste and hand it to him. I half-smiled. "Remember I use that side for food and that," I reprimand, using my faux-chav accent. He laughed and took a sip. "So, why are you in deepest darkest Leicester?" I asked, devoting my attention back to the making of my brew. "You don't sound local."

He grinned boyishly at me. "I was staying with a friend in Braunstone, so I got caught up in all the traffic down there. Apparently some other poor bugger had broken down there."

"I assume your car probably overheated, in that case."

He shook his head and laughed softly. "That bastard Sam. And he told me that car was crap."

That piqued my interest further. "So that car's not yours?"

"No," he sighed, swinging his legs in an endearing childish way. "He's always whingeing about it, but I never took it seriously. I mean, he's such a bloody drama queen. He once broke up with someone because she didn't like how she put her legs when she was asleep."

I giggled. "Oh, God, don't tell me anymore. I know the type."

We sat in a companionable silence for a few moments, sipping at our tea.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," he said suddenly, apropos to nothing.

"Haley Scott, savior of the modern motoringist," I said mock-formally.

"The name's Smith. Matt Smith," he replied, Sean Connery-esque, taking my hand and kissing it. The gleeful grin I'd been stifling blossomed into a full-blown giggle. He made being silly fun. I liked that.

He let me go and I went back to my tea. "So... why are you going to the train station, if I may ask?" I said,  
clasping my mug with both hands.

"Well, I live in London but my family called me up to Newcastle for my cousin's birthday party. I thought it might be nice to stop by and see Sam, who got me wankered within three seconds of putting my bags down."

"So that's what you meant by your 'driving all night' thing!" I laughed. he smiled ruefully and ran a hand through his fringe. "Well, we both had a pretty rough night. I woke up this morning to find three empty bottles of wine on the coffee table -"

"A DVD case on your face, and said face lying on my lap while Sophie was cuddling up with a sofa cushion on the floor," finished a voice as the front door creaked open and shut. "To whom are you retelling the story of our sins of last night?"

"Well, Cam, this nice man decided to break down rather loudly outside my window," I retorted as the sandy brown mop of the owner of the voice peered round the doorway, bread in hand. Matt looked down, a bit embarrassed. Shamelessly, I carried on. "So I returned the favour by helping him out and giving him some of my vile tea."

Cam is a bit older than me, twenty-two to my twenty. Being gay (which we don't have problems with),  
he's always impeccably dressed and well-spoken, even on hangover days; he was wearing navy jeans, white Converse, and a pale blue T-shirt which was just tight enough to show his lightly muscled build without clinging to his form. His fringe was always gelled to within an inch of its life, and his sharp blue eyes were so piercing it was impossible to lie to his face.

"Would you be so kind to bring me one of your vile concoctions and bring it to my bedside, please?"  
he yawned, stretching his mouth wide. "My little body is a-weary. Oh, nice to meet you," he added. He dumped the bread at the foot of the door, left the doorway and loped off to his room.

When he was out of sight, I whispered "I think he took that rather well."

Matt met my gaze, confused. "What?"

I grinned impishly. "Well it's not everyday you find a Time Lord in your kitchen." I smiled bigger than the Cheshire Cat as his eyes widened. "Oh yeah, we're massive geeks. We're just playing it cool."

Shock gave way to amusement and he laughed. "Well, it's always nice to meet fans..." he said, subdued.

"Don't be nervous, I'm not going to kidnap, rape or pillage you," I said wryly, rolling my eyes as I got up to sort out Cam's drink. He sat in silence for a few moments.

"No questions?" he blurted.

"If I wanted answers, I'd have saved up to go to San Diego," I pointed out, throwing the teabag in the bin.

"Even then you mightn't have gotten answers."

I turned around to face him. "I'm a hardcore Whovian," I smiled softly. "Being in that room would have been enough."

He looked at me for a second before removing his hat, running his hands through his hair properly. He seemed to deliberate for a second before taking off his jacket. As I finished the tea and took it through,  
The Devil Went Down To Georgia sounded out from his phone.

"Hello Kaz - yes, I know. Sam's piece of crap... Well, don't give me the bloody stick for it!..."

Barely hiding the huge fan girling grin on my face, I hurried down the hall to Cam's room - where it didn't look like his "little body was a-weary"...

* * *

A/N: Woah, the views keep going up! Thanks to everyone whose been following this so far- I know I keep posting but everytime I check it's amazing to see how many people are reading my stuff, and where they are- the US, Poland, Canada, Italy, Mexico, Australia...

Also, I'd like to point out that I'm only as far as Chapter 4- so any suggestions could end up being in the story! I will credit you lovely people, of course :)

Finally, love to Moonbeam- yes, it IS fun!

Much Love,

FishFingeresAndCustard11 xx


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Oh!" Bounce. "My!" Bounce. "GOD!" BOING! Cam leaped of his bed and began jumping up and down with me hysterically. "Matt Goddamn Smith is IN OUR FLAT!" he stage whispered. "Oh, the fan boying!"

"And girling!" I protested, laughing as he span us round in a circle.

"Oh, let us not waste another minute! Let's go in there and ravage him!"

I pulled him back. "Now, now. If we are impolite to our guests they may not want to come back."

He sighed. "And acting like the whores of Satan might be rude..."

I burst out, giggling dizzily at the real disappointment in his face. "Yes, the harlots of Lucifer are rude and illegal."

Still crying with laughter, I pushed open the door - and Matt fell into the room. We fell silent.

"Oh... my..." I looked knowingly at Cam before doubling over as the giggles wracked my body.

"Whores of Satan?" asked Matt, pretending to be incredulous.

"Yes, Monsieur le Devil is our pimp," replied Cam, recovering quickly from his mortification.

"Anyway, you were the one standing at the keyhole like Gerald," I told Matt, walking past him to the lounge to start-up the computer in the corner. "What was Ms. Gillan giving you hell about?"

"Karen - Gillan?" asked Cam, as he followed Matt in.

"Ignore him," I say to Matt over my shoulder.

After a slight pause, Matt sighed and said, "I'm late for drinks with her. She and Darvill are waiting for 's our last hurrah before hey both go to America."

"I hear an angry Ms. Gillan is a force to be reckoned with," I comment, waiting for the computer to load up.

Matt barked out laughter humourlessly. "She'll have my guts for garters. She'll perform the procedure right there on the bar, using a blunt knife, a dirty cloth and enough vodka to make a polar bear unconscious."

"Ugh," complained Cam, wincing. "Nice imagery."

"Payback for the bootiful pictures you gave him with your talk of 'ravaging'."

He stuck his tongue out at me childishly. I sneaked a glance at Matt; he was smiling again, sadness seemingly forgotten. then I remembered what he did for a living.

"So, train times..." I murmured, almost to myself, as I typed it into Google. I clicked away while Cam entertained Matt by gushing geek - "So my favourite episode of yours has to be Vincent and the Doctor - just the level of emotion throughout, and the flirting between Vincent and Amy is hilarious!-"

"The next train to St. Pancras is at 5 o'clock," I interjected.

"So I've got an hour and a half to psyche myself up for Gillan?"

"D'you want me to book you tickets? As it's a weekend I'll assume the trains are hell..."

"Erm, yeah, if your sure it won't be too much trouble."

"None at all."

"Let me know when you need my credit card details."

"Sure." I made a mental note to disregard that. You ain't paying for that, pal, I thought grimly. It's a matter of misplaced Scott pride.

The door clicked again, accompanied by the jangle of keys and moans of pain as my other flat mate entered. With a fleeting shared look, Cam and I exclaimed "Soph!" and bolted for the corridor.

Sophie, my blonde-haired blue-eyed other best friend (although admittedly the blonde was fake) was definitely worse for wear, much more so than me and Cam. Her hair was more than a little frizzy, and her sunglasses were glued to her face even inside. Her clothes (a short denim jacket, tight ripped skinny jeans and a black vest top) were also crumpled and scruffy, a sure sign of either a hangover or a day spent at her boyfriend Tom's - both of which I presumed was the case. Her handbag was slung over her forearm.

She fell dramatically upon us, wrapping her arms around our necks and putting her head between our shoulders. "Please put me to bed," she groaned. "Preferably with tea, biscuits and Sherlohmyfuckinggod."

Sharing a grin, we turned to find Matt leaning against the doorway to see what was going on. "Sophie," I said with restrained laughter. "Is something wrong?"

She glared at me while Matt awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. "Why?..."

"He broke down outside."

She stared at me for just a bit longer, as if to scan my face for any sign of lying, then shook herself. "Er, hi, I'm Sophie," she mumbled as she disentangled herself from us. She looks down at her shoes.

To his credit, Matt moved forward and hugged her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sophie," he said warmly. I noted with glee that Sophie's eyes were wider than a Dalek Mothership.

"It's okay, she's just fan girling," said Cam, cradling her shoulders and leading her through to the lounge. I watched from under Matt's arm, which he'd placed on the doorway, my hand on my mouth ( because I was struggling not to smile at Soph's state of shock, and because Matt. Smith's. ARM - silent fan girling is conducive to acting cool). Throughout my inner monologue about the fine line between fan girling and acting cool, Cam sat her down in our armchair and continued: "I'll go and get the hot chocolate you've hidden under your bed and make you some, and when you feel ready to come out of your little shell and talk to the nice Gallifreyan, you do that. Okay, hun?"

Sophie, whether out of shock or by way of retort, didn't answer.

Smirking, Cam squeezed through to retrieve the illicit chocolate powder. "I'll let you call when it's safe for him to go in," he mumured.

"It's not like going to pounce on him, bro."

"It's not for Matt's benefit - it's for her's."

I glanced at Matt, who had viewed the whole affair with an air of amused familiarity, and Soph, who looked like her blonde brain had permanently left the room, and I nodded. When Cam had bustled on, I knelt in front of Sophie and took her hands. "Sophie," I said quietly. "I'm pregnant."

"WHAT!?" she screeched, jumping 50 ft into the air.

"Safe to come in!" I called to Matt. "She's cured!"

Grinning broadly, he came in and plonked himself on the sofa. "So, what is there to do in Leicester on a Saturday afternoon?"

"Absolutely nothing unless you're a tourist," I replied dryly. "We could watch a film I suppose."

"Okay," he nodded. "But what's an hour long?"

"Mm, maybe not," I conceded. "All our decent films are three hours long."

"We could watch TV," suggests Sophie, her cheeks a little pink.

"That's a good point, I need to re watch Glee." I glance at Matt. "If that's alright by you?"

"No problem. I never really started to watch it."

Sophie and I gasped simultaneously. "No WAY?" she exclaimed, shyness forgotten. "Right, operation Educate Smithers is go!" She authoritatively strode over to our Wall of Various Fandoms (basically a big bookcase full of DVDs, CDs and books) and selected Glee, Season 1.

"Funny," I commented while I sat down next to him. "You'd never have guessed this girl had an episode roughly half a minute ago."

She turns around to stick her tongue out at me. "I will apologise for that when I am less mortified."

I exchange a look with Matt, great big grins on our faces. He manges to keep eye contact for longer than I anticipated. I'm normally rubbish for caching people's eyes.

"What's the plan?" asked Cam. He stepped lightly around the coffee table (that we never use for coffee as all three of us hate it) with Sophie mug, and knocked me, breaking my little reverie. I tore my eyes away from Matt and told him we're watching Glee. Soph started the first episode and I drew my knees in to rest my chin on them.

"You look like your going to start rocking back and forth in a straight jacket," giggled Soph as she crawled across the carpet to lean against the sofa. I smack the top of her head lightly. Cam settles down in the squishy armchair. As the show progresses, I steal furtive glances a Matt whilst trying to keep up my cool façade. It's so surreal that I'm watching telly with one of the guys that I normally see on the box.

"That was quite good," he admitted when the episode ended.

"Told you," said Sophie smugly.

"Ah ah ah, tone," reprimanded Cam primly.

"Enough, both of you," I sighed. "You will be the death of me - and remember Obi-Wan said that to Anakin, so it can actually happen. you ready to go, Mr. Smith?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied. "Thank you so much for your hospitality." We all chimed in with our _no problem's_ and _our pleasure's._

Sophie threw me my keys, and with my super hand-eye co-ordination, I completely missed. I reached down to pick them up, and bumped heads with Mat when he bent down too.

"Sorry," he apologised, running his hand through his (amazing) hair again.

"It was my fault," I smiled as he grabbed his coat.

"I'd offer my manly services and help you with your cases," Cam said, "but I've got about as much strength as a pansy."

"No problem, mate," Matt laughed. "I can manage." He hugged Cam and Sophie in turn.

"Bye," she said shyly.

"It's lovely to have met you," he smiled genuinely at her. He turned to me. "Allons-y, then, Miss Scott!"

"Oh, god, you know how to make a nerd girl squee!" I giggled. "Later, guys!"

* * *

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is reading this. I've got over 125 views! ^.^

If at all possible, can I please have some constructive criticism left in the reviews?

Cheers,

FishCustard :)


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He refused let me help him with his case, even though it was massive. Despite my protests, I smiled; he was such a gentleman. I climbed in the car and quickly removed Soph's Rhiannna CD. I replaced it with my infinitely better Tom Odell album, and Grow Old With Me tinkled through the speakers as he stood and waved at my window with one foot in the car. It sounded like Cam and Sophie were sending us off very loudly.

"Bye, thank you!" he yelled as he swung himself in.

Grinning idiotically, I said, "Ready?"

"Yep," he grinned back.

I'd barely made it to the end of the road when his phone buzzed, this time blaring out I'm Holding Out For A Hero. He didn't check the caller ID.

"Hello, Sam... Well you piece of carp broke down on me. I've spent the last hour in a kind strangers flat, and they've also had to sort me out with another ticket." His voice was thick with irritation, and his mouth was set in a grim line - the sort of look that only crossed the Doctor's face when he met someone who disgusted him. It honestly scared me a bit. "Yes, they were... If you make another insinuation like that I'll... do something... ah, beer! I won't bring beer," He said triumphantly, crossing his arms. "I'll text you where I've left it... yeah, your probably right. Bye." He ended the call, pressing the button angrily, sighed and crossed his arms.

We continued in a slightly awkward silence for the rest of the fifteen minute journey, broken by Tom and me singing the occasional line or lyric. I felt his eyes on me couple of times, but I kept my attention firmly on the road.

"Sorry I've not been brilliant company," he apologised quietly when the train station came into view.

"It's no bother," I assured him. "I prefer quiet journeys; it's better than listening to Sophie and Cameron being annoying drunks in the back seat."

He smiled gently and we got out of the car.

"Thanks again, for looking after me. I probably wouldn't be going tonight if it wasn't for you, Haley."

I hesitated, then thought, _To hell with it_. I hugged him and to my surprise, he hugged me back. I squeezed him tightly before letting him go. "Hm, I should spontaneously hug people more often," I grinned. He laughed. "Have a good time with Karen and Arthur. You know where I live if I've forgotten anything." I got back into the car.

"Thank you!" he shouted back to me. He entered the station and I lost sigh of him in the throng.

"Wow." I sat in the driver's seat, blinking rapidly. "Wow. I drove Matt Smith... to the train station?" I shook my head and started up the engine.

Appropriately enough, Tom was singing a song entitled: I Know.

* * *

"M'back!" I yelled. the sound of Jane Lynch's hilariously brilliant Sue Sylvester drifted into the hall. I walked in to find Soph and Cam laughing into beer and crisps.

"Hey, you started without me!" I pouted playfully. When they paid me little (Cam) to no (Soph) attention, I shrugged and began munching on the cheese and onion. I sat on the sofa arm, leaning on Cam's shoulder. "I can't believe I hugged Matt Smith..."

"Yes, very forward of you, darling," quipped Cam dryly.

I took that as a cue to shut up.

For the rest of the episode I was silent. I didn't even pay any attention, really. I tried to make sense of what's happened, or if it did indeed happen at all. Did it happen?

Confused, I got up when the credits rolled and wandered to my bedroom. I threw my bag and keys on my desk then collapsed backwards onto my bed.

CRUNCH.

Frowning, I reluctantly sat up and studied the piece of paper I fell on in the dim light. I didn't remember putting it there.

_Haley,_  
_I thought you might like to keep this. I don't know, I thought it might be good for you to have something to remember today by. But I suppose it goes well with your eyes, too._  
_Thanks for everything you've done. I'll only ever speak your highest praises, and I'm sure Kaz and Arthur will too - you got a lost guy to one last night with his best friends._  
_Sorry for this drivel._  
_Matt. x_

I reread it again and again with shaking hands. I felt around my bed, searching, until my fingers came into contact with something soft and wooly. Hat and letter in hand, I fell back again, scarcely daring to believe I'd really spent a day with him.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter done... :) Sorry this one isn't all that long :(

Looking at my stats, I seem to be getting the same people back everyday, or a consistent number of people viewing my story at least. Can you please please PLEASE let me know what you think so far? It doesn't matter if you think it's a pile of crap, as long as I know what to do to make it better.

Sorry for the whinge ;(

Love, FishCustard xx


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_2 months later._

Beanie firmly on my head, I waited patiently in line to get my box sets signed. I was slightly nervous – okay, a bit more than slightly. I hadn't heard anything from him (well, specifically about me) since that surreal day I drove him to the train station. In addition, I wasn't even sure he'd remember me. After all, it wasn't like I'd played a major part in his life – I'd simply got him from A to B.

As the end of the line cam sluggishly nearer, I kept my head down.

_Haley Scott, you calm down this instant, _ I scolded myself. _ Look up, for Christ's sake!_

Taking a deep breath, I summoned whatever courage I had and looked over the person in front.

Matt had his head bent over whatever paraphernalia he was signing, his hair flopping in front of his face. He couldn't see me. I watched in reserved awe as he quickly and professionally wrote his name, smiled, shared a few words with them and sent them on their way, albeit slightly dazed and starstruck. I quickly stuck my head back in the line.

I waited, TARDIS bag slung over my shoulder, until the person in front of me took their stuff away.

"Hi," I said shyly.

Unbelievably, he grinned. "Ah, the elusive Miss Scott. Long time, no see!"

I breathed a short, silent sigh of relief. "Mr. Smith. Teasing as ever, I see," I smiled, matching his playful tone. "Can you sign these, my good sir?" I dumped the box sets on the desk in front of him.

He dutifully picks up his Sharpie. "You eaten yet?" he asks nonchalantly, not lifting his gaze from my stuff.

"Nah, I've been waiting for you for the past hour or so."

"Tell you what, then, I'll buy you something to eat when I'm done. It can be the payment for the train tickets that didn't come on my MasterCard statement..." He looked at me accusingly.

I giggled nervously. "Okay. I'll wait for you."

"You don't have to -" he began to say, but then he saw my expression. "All right, no use fighting a lost battle."

Surprised at my own gall, I winked at him. "Good boy."

"Boy?!..."

The security guard coughed. Matt sighed.

"All right, Chris... See you later Hales?"

I grinned. "You betcha." I scooped up my DVDs and walked to a wall several feet away, where I could prop myself up and read.

But as I sifted through my bag, something hit me.

Hales.

He called me Hales. And he's been calling me Miss. Scott.

Nicknames. Flirting.

Oh my God.

* * *

_**MATT's POV**_

_Hales. Hales? _I thought to myself as I carried on the tedious job of signing all the random bits of junk the BBC gets fans to buy. It's not that I'm ungrateful, far from it; Doctor Who is the best thing that has ever happened to me. It's only the fans – the poor, poor fans who get coerced into buying a figurine at twenty flipping pounds - that get me through the days of wrist ache after a massive signing like this. That and Nurofen.

I called her Hales. I don't know why, but it just seems a little... I don't know. Familiar? Precocious?

The line slowly diminished. When the last photo, T-shirt, DVD and book was signed, I grabbed my brown leather jacket and left. Pulling on the sleeves, I scanned the crowd for Haley. She was standing against a wall with a book in her hands, her long, brown, dip-dyed hair shielding her face. The blonde tips contrasted starkly against her pale blue, three-quarter length sleeved T-shirt. Her slender legs were bare, as her denim hot pants stopped half way down her thighs. They were partly covered by the length of her top. Her black denim jacket was draped over her TARDIS satchel, although my old beanie remained on her head. I thought about her emerald, just a shade or so lighter than lighter than the hat.

I shook myself. Yes, they were very striking, and yes, they were the first thing I'd noticed about her, but I didn't need to go about them to myself.

As I approached, she sensed my eyes on her and glanced up. Something flashed through her eyes, and then she grinned. Grinning, she snapped her book shut and stowed it away in her bag. She turned towards me, and I realised she had a small sonic screwdriver tucked behind her eyes.

"Good evening, Mr. Smith," she teased, folding her arms.

"So sorry to keep you waiting, Miss. Scott," I smirked. I offered her my arm. "Shall we?"

"Indeed we shall." We locked gazes for an infinite second and then fell about laughing.

"So where are we going to?" she giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. "Anywhere in the convention hall?"

"Are you mad, woman?" I spluttered. "They charge you a fiver for a chip! I know I earn way to much, but you need to draw the line somewhere. No, as I'm on lunch 'til half four,we're going out." I trailed my hand down her arm and entwined her fingers with mine. It felt good, natural. Her cheeks went a little pink.

As usual, I was stopped by several over-eager teens and their mums for photos, but when we were out of the convention hall I slipped on my dark sunglasses. They didn't completely keep them at bay, but they certainly cut down the numbers.

We chatted about everything and nothing. It was the sort of talk I loved – traversing loads of topics without ever really breaking the skin of any of them, so conversation wouldn't run dry. Finally, we arrived at a small café – _La Café de Moulin_.

"Ooh, French," she cooed appreciatively. "La Café de Moulin..." She spoke slowly, savouring the way the language rolled off her tongue. She looked at me dreamily and said, "J'adore le francias."

"I can tell," I laughed. "You're lucky I know enough schoolboy French to translate that. Let's go, c'mon." I ushered her inside to a two seat table at the back. "They don't actually do French food in here. It really is just your average greasy spoon."

"OI!" shouted the woman behind the counter, Madeline. "It ain't stopped cha from comin' 'ere for Gawd knows 'ow long!"

"Sorry, Mads!"

Haley laughed. "I can live quite happily with a good caff, Matthew. Nothing beats a decent fry-up," she beamed. She sat down and picked up a menu. "Hey, £3.50 for a Full English ain't bad..."

* * *

A/N: Oh my gosh, I'm sooooooooo sorry for not posting! Restarting school, too much homework (i.e. any), yada yada, etc, and so on and so forth.

Thank you for everyone who has continued to read this. At the time of writing, the views have shot up to 425, plus two new followers, 1 favourite and two more reviews! My love goes out to y'all.

Also, to non-Leicester readers and those abroad, caff is slang for café, pronounced like café but without the e. if I've used anything else in here you don't get, lemme know!

Please keep reading! Your faith in me is extraordinary ;)

Fish Custard xx


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**MATTs POV**

"You put away an awful lot of food for someone so small."

"Oh, shut up. We can't all be six foot tall."

"Five eleven, actually," I corrected her. She stuck her tongue out at me. "You have a habit of doing that. Endearing and childish, but I think you do that when you know you've lost, to detract attention from the fact that you _have_ lost," I continued. She opened her mouth to do so once more, but then thought better of it and simply told me to shut up.

I laughed. "So what do you do when you've lost?" she asked, taking my hand and lacing her fingers through mine.

"It depends on the person. Like if it's Kazza, she gets called a badger..." She giggled as I trailed through the various ways I react to defeat. The London streets were very, very cold – so cold my breath was steaming almost before it came out of my mouth. It puffed out like the artificial smoke used at discos. It must've been half even at least when we came out of the convention hall for the second time, and we'd been walking around for what felt like five minutes, but could have been days.

"Where're you staying?"I asked suddenly, a hazy idea forming in my mind.

"The Premier Inn," she said sheepishly, not meeting my eyes. She glanced at her watch. "I need to check out in an hour, actually..." Her tone was strange, faintly wistful. "It's a long drive back to Leicester."

The glimmer in my mind gathered momentum. "Hales..."

"Mm?"

Shit. I'd called her Hales. Again. And my idea... would she even agree to it? I mean, who asks a girl they don't even really know to -

"Matt? You were saying something?

"Oh, God, sorry," I said quickly. "Staring into space... um... yeah." _Oh Jesus, somebody just kill me now!_

"Hey, c'mon, out with it," she coaxed, the hint of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who'd say something without a reason."

I held my breath.

"D'you want to stop at mine?" I blurted.

She stared at me, startled. "Huh?"

"Do you want to stay with me tonight?" The look on her face was not boding well. "I mean, you've got clothes and stuff, and I have a washing machine if none of them are clean, and you'd probably be better driving during the day tomorrow than at night now..." _Damn it, shut up, stop babbling Matt!_

Her face was blank.

"Okay, " she finally said. "Let me call Cam and let him know I won't be back til tomorrow"

* * *

**HALEYs POV**

"Cheers," I said, smiling, to the receptionist. I went to grab my case but my hands clutched at empty air. Semi-panicked, I started hunting around for them – until I saw that Matt had beaten me to them, an amused grin on his face. Clearly, he found my mini panic attack humorous. For the millionth time, I nearly stuck my tongue out then thought better of it at the last second. His grin widened.

"Is there any point in telling you there's no need for you to carry them?" I said sarcastically, jerking my head toward my cases.

"None at all," he beamed, seemingly taking no offence at my abrasive words. I rolled my eyes as we walked side by side to my little red Fiesta. He placed my cases carefully in the boot while I got in the front. I was flipping through my CD wallet when I climbed in, all limbs.

To be honest, choosing wasn't that difficult. I pick the EP that would bridge the gaps between our tastes perfectly.

_Stay, for tonight,_

_If you want to, I can show you_

_What my dreams are made of_

_'Cause I'm dreaming of your face..._

What I'd unfortunately forgotten was that those words, those lyrics, that opening track triggered thoughts and childish fantasies of Matt I would rather not show up on my face. In an attempt to disguise it, or at least pass it off as really getting into the music, I sang along with Kellin, sometimes a third apart.

We were quiet in the car, apart from Matt giving me occasional and my voice harmonising badly. Quiet journeys were becoming a tradition with us. It was fine with me; it allowed me to concentrate on the road and the music.

"Park it here," he instructed. We'd stoped outside a red brick building that was cheap and dirty or cool and grungy. It was a good few stories high, having about three floors not including the basement.

I raced him to the back. "You're not going to win this time!" I shrieked with glee. I popped my boot but, ignoring my squeals, he snaked an arm around my waist and lifted me out the way.

"Ha! Beat you to it, Scott!" he shouted victoriously.

"No, you didn't. You cheated. And anyway, you've got to carry it up the stairs now.

"Oh, you..." Lost for words, he stuck his tongue out at me.

"That means I wi-in," I sang, skipping to the door. I held it open for him while he dragged my bag through.

"Cheers babe," he said.

I pretended to gloss over the fact he called me babe – or at leas, I didn't let my breath catch. "I can be gracious in victory," I teased.

"Really? I don't remember you ever gloating this much."

"Oh, believe me, I can be much worse."

Matt's flat, unfortunately fo9r him was on the second floor,so the poor bloke had to carry my suitcase up four flights of stairs. I only had a few outfits, pjs, and toiletries, but you know. He fumbled with his key outside flat 11 (oh, my not-so-inner geek rejoiced), before producing his keys and unlocking the door. I pushed it open for him and, taking his hand once more, we went inside.

* * *

A/N: Oh my gosh, eight followers and two favourites?! I'm dying of happiness ^.^ Huge huge thank yous to ChoirCat16, Halkyone, LittleCatz, Mystifying Fog, SarcasticRaven, calicat197, and smilercat, love and kisses for my favouriters Tomaaat and Who cares711, and endless... erm... happiness to the 23 people who are reaing this story.

I'm sorry my updates aren't going to be as frequent as they have been for this story, but with school and flaming teachers giving me homework everyday it simply cannot be helped. I know how irritating it is when authors leave their stories halfway through. Also, I've had an idea for a modern day Les Mis that I should put up soon... so far I've got to Valjean leaving prison, and I'm trying to make the chapters a song at a time.

Apologies and love (so loveogies?)

Fish Custard. xx


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**HALEYs POV**

The flat was quite neutral, mostly creams and blues, but the warm lighting made it welcoming as opposed to bland. The front door opened straight into the living room, which was dominated by a massive white corner sofa and a wide-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall. The main light came a lamp, although there was a small, ornate light fitting in the centre of the ceiling.

"Wow... Your interior designer beats the hell out of mine!"I joked. He laughed, then glanced around shiftily.

"Um, I may not have mentioned that there's only one bedroom..." he mumbled guiltily. He looked like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Hey, don't worry," I winked, taking my bags off him. "I'll sleep on the settee."

"No you won't," he said indignantly. "You can sleep on my bed." He crossed his arms.

"We'll see. It okay if I used your washing machine?"

"Yeah yeah, of course," he said, tiff apparently forgotten. He led me through to his kitchen and showed me how to work his machine and where the detergent and softener were.

"You hungry?" he asked as I loaded the washer. I paused.

"Hmm. I'm not sure. I suppose I could eat something, but I'm not overly fussed." I pressed the start button and turned to face him.

"Yeah right, I know how much you can put away."

"Shut up, Smithers. What've you got in?"

"Um, I'm not sure..."

I reached for the small fridge. An onion, some mushrooms, bacon, sausages, butter, milk... "D'you have flour and pasta?"

I could hear clanking and he rooted around in his cupboards. "Ah, you're in luck! I wouldn't normally have flour in but Kaz tried to make Yorkshire puddings a few months ago when we had a night off..."

"And everybody always has pasta!" I laughed gleefully.

* * *

**MATTs POV**

"Oh, my," I breathed. "That was... God, is there even a word?"

"Carbonara à la Haley," she smirked. "I've had years to hone my invaluable gift of making a meal out of nothing."

Laughing, I check my watch. Ten to nine. I raised my glass. "Well, to Carbonara à la Haley – may I one day learn your secret, because I order way to many take-aways."

She rolled her eyes. "20-something and can't even cook..."

"Oi!" I protested teasingly. "I'm giving you board, here!"

"Oh, hush, Smithers," she playfully admonished. "Pizza, booze, telly, minus the pizza?"

"Actually, I wouldn't mind pizza..."

"You've just had two massive bowls of pasta!"

"Yeah, that was five minutes ago. Five whole minutes, Hales!"

Ah, fuck. I called her Hales again. You know what, screw it. She's probably got so used to it she's forgotten how lame it sounds. Maybe.

Slowly, we made our way to the living room, laughing and bantering. Without too much debate, we picked _Star Wars: A New Hope._

As the opening summary rolled over the screen, she said, "D'you know _Transformers: The Movie?"_

"Yeah, I normally give Michael Bay films a watch."

"No, the cartoon from 1986."

"What?" I looked at her in amazement.

"Okay, maybe not." She sighed and drained her glass. I go to the kitchen and bring back two beers, to find she has sat on the sofa with her legs swung around so as to curl around her. I handed her a beer and sat next to her.

As the film progresses, my eyelids start to feel like sandpaper. Haley slipped down, from barely touching, to her head on my shoulder, to her head in my lap, sound asleep. Rather than watch Luke destroy the Deathstar, I watched her face. I studied all the little lines by her eyes, highlighted by smeared black eye liner; her serene expression brought by sleep; her glossy brown hair... Hair I seemed to be stroking. When did I start that? Just then? Minutes ago? Hours?

I sighed. I must've been a bit pissed. Oh well.

I considered moving her. I decided on moving her. I slowly got my feet testing my equilibrium. Her head slid off my lap with a soft _thump._ I put my hands gently beneath her shoulders and knees and, with a strange mix of a moan, a grunt and a sigh, carried her to my bed. I tucked her in.

She looked really peaceful, in the prettiest way imaginable. You look so pretty, Haley.

That was my last clear memory.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this ones a bit short people, and that it took so long to upload... I struggling to find the time to type up what I've written, or indeed to write at all. Which is why my Les Miz fic hasn't yet left the ground... -.-

Reviews much welcome, and all support is received with much love

FishCustard xx


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The first thing I realised was that I was warm. Really warm. Way warmer than my bed normally would be. But anyhow, I wasn't complaining. It was sweet and comforting, especially with my slight headache and abnormally dry mouth. With I contented sigh, I curled up and smooshed my face into the quilt and curled up.

My knee brushed against another warm body.

"Cam, sweetie, we talked about climbing into my bed didn't we? I had enough of that with Alex," I mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed.

"Huh?" murmured back a male voice. But it wasn't Cam's Kurt Hummel-esque trill. It was deeper, softer, and closer than Cam's would be. But then, that bed didn't smell or feel like mine – the sheets were stiffer and smelt of a strange yet pleasant mix of cookies and lavender.

I wrenched my eyes open and when I spied the Beastie Boys T-shirt, the same sleep crumpled one he wore on the day I officially met him, last night comes flooding back. I remembered lying my head in his lap as Luke was leaving the rebel base, but anything else after that and I drew blank. Dread seeped through my sleepy bliss and shattered it.

"Oh shit," I whispered, sitting bolt upright. I buried my face in my hands.

"What?" he asked tentatively, as he shyly reached out for me.

"We didn't, did we?" I don't look at him, but the panic in my voice is evident.

Unbelievably, he chuckled.

"I'm serious, why's that so funny?" I said, anxiety rising fast. I couldn't ignore the freezing pain creeping up from my stomach to my chest. My spine was lead, locking me in place.

"Are your jeans still on?"

"What?"

"Are your jeans still on? Mine are, and to be honest, I don't normally bother with that afterwards." I could hear from his tone that he was smiling. I brought my hand down to my waist and felt the comforting denim beneath my fingers. My spine loosened the heat rising up my cheeks.

He chuckles again. "Can you come here now please? I need cuddles."

With a sigh, I lead his grasping hand around my back and crawl closer to him. We lie there, in fatigued bliss for who knows how long, just enjoying being with each other -

Wait.

Slowly, it dawned upon me how close – phsically and emotionally – we're being. Emotionally? How could that be? I'd known him for all of two months, only two days of which we'd actually spent together! I'd got a job in that time! And yet... somehow, being with him now, it felt like no time at all.

"What are you arguing with yourself about?"

I jumped. I looked up from my place against his chest to meet his eyes. "What?"

He gave a soft hum of laughter and smirked. "Actor remember? I study body language and copy it for a living."

"How could I forget?" I murmured as he tucks my head under his chin. His neck and my lips are so close, and he smelt faintly of a delicious mix of -

"C'mon, Haley wants bacon," I said overly brightly. I kicked the quilt off us and quickly noted, somewhat with relief, that he wasn't lying about his jeans.

"Aww, Matt wants Haley not to make Matt cold," he whinged. Suddenly, he rolled on top of me, a stupid grin on his face, with his full weight on me. Trust me, the guy is skinny, but there is a LOT of him – he just goes up instead of out.

"Argh! Can't – breathe!" I shrieked

"I'm not that heavy!..."

"Gerroff!"

Grunting, he obliged. "Thank you," I said, scowling. I climbed over him to get out of the bed – deliberately kneeing him in the stomach – and hunted for the remaining bacon from last night.

"I love bacon, bacon loves me," I sang, skipping gaily to the cupboard for mayonnaise. "We've been together since we were wee..."

"You're one strange girl," he said, suddenly appearing at the door.

It was all I could do to not let my jaw drop. The crumpled clothes, combined with a tousled messy mop, painted a picture of surprising beauty and delicateness.

"You don't live with Sophie and Cam without it rubbing off somehow," I heard myself say. He smirked.

We made sandwiches together in relative silence. Honestly, for me, I'd been very talkative and bouncy for a morning. We ate our bacon sarnies on the sofa.

"Haley?"

"Mm?"

"What time are you planning on... y'know.."

"Completing my plan for world domination?"

"No! Erm.. Leaving." The word hung in the air uncomfortably.

I lent my head back. "I didn't give Cam a specific time, so when ever."

"Oh... okay."

I knew that tone. Knew it, but refused to acknowledge it. It must be a different one, because that one couldn't be gracing his voice about _me._

"I'd better sort out my stuff," I blurted out.

"Okay, lemme help."

"No, it's okay-"

"Hales," he said wearily, smiling a little sadly. "What makes you think I'm going to take that as an answer?"

* * *

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm?"

I bit my lip and hesitated. "Um. You just seem a bit... er -"

"I'm fine, Hales," he smiled. "Race you to the car?"

I grinned. "You're on. But on one condition."

"And what's that?"

I cackled evilly. "You carry my bag!" I shoved my stuff on him and ran downstairs like a lightening bolt, despite his curses and protestation. My hand was feet away from touching the car door and thereby winning (its universal law of how to win a childish race), when a lanky figure knocked me to the ground and ungracefully slammed his long fingers on the passenger door.

"I win this time, ha ha! Handicapped, too!" Matt crowed delightedly.

"You nearly killed me, you idiot!" I chastised jokingly, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. I looked at his face. "Oh, no, don't look at me like that!"

"What look?"

"The one where you look an adorable mix of happy/guilty in a boyish way."

"You mean like this?-"

"Oh pack it in!" I shrieked with laughter as he swooped in to give me a hug. I held onto him tenderly, breathing him in. Beneath the stale beer smell he hadn't quite managed to wash from himself when he'd had a shower this morning, he smelt like vanilla and faintly of cologne. "God, I'm going to miss you, Matt..."

"I'm going to miss you too, Hales," he whispered in my ear.

I said that out loud? "Oops."

"What do you mean, oops?"

I laughed softly. A lump of emotion was getting itself lodged in my throat. "It doesn't matter," I whispered thickly. He pulled back gently. I kept my head down, for fear he would see the tears he'd clearly heard in my voice making my eyes glisten.

"Haley?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Look at me."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Why?"

He chuckled again. "C'mon, Hales... Just do it." He pulled my chin up with the crook of his index finger. Gone were all traces of a smile – instead, he just met my gaze sombrely.

"It's fine to feel emotional, Haley," he said. "And anyway, we're going to see each other again, and next time it won't be by accident. Okay?"

"Okay," I whispered. I winced when my breath hitched in a sob.

He kindly took my hand and wiped away my tears. He led me to my door and sat me down in the drivers, like a big brother and his incompetent little sister.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," I mumbled, my cheeks colouring. "I promised, I promised myself I wouldn't be like this, like another pathetic fangirl who can't keep it together -"

"Oh, Haley," he smiled softly. He leant in through the door and took on side of my face in his hand. His thumb stroked my face, and I leant into it slightly, with my eyes closed. I was still sniffling a bit, and my face no doubt had a resemblance to a great blotchy rash, but the embarrassing tears had stopped. I felt his breath, light and warm, come closer and get hotter, gradually becoming concentrated around my lips.

I froze.

And his lips graced mine.

Somehow, through my hazy mind, I think back to our earlier conversation. I hadn't imagined the longing in his voice.

* * *

A/N: Okay, feel free to crucify me for not updating for a bloody millennium. I don't deserve your reviews... although it would be nice?

FishCustard xx


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